No Quick Fix (Torus Intercession 1)

“I think you’re plenty.”

He shook his head. “That’s very kind of you to say, but I—April was five when her mother died, so her memories of Andrea are so strong, which is good, but I know the fact that the marriage is imminent is carving her up inside.” He stopped suddenly, taking a breath.

“Tell me.”

He explained that her anger and melancholy, though always strong, had become something she was nearly choking on. What was even worse was that every time he tried approaching her, she shut down. He so wanted to talk to her, but she was having nothing to do with the topic, or him. She had become so distant. It was getting harder and harder for him to bridge the gap.

“But she’s responding to you.” He finally turned to look at me, his eyes so full of a mixture of hope and pain that it took everything in me not to lean sideways into his space and kiss him.

He was hurting. I could fix it. Or, more to the point, I could normally fix it if the guy who was grieving was gay. There had been many times when I’d used my body to soothe and nurture, and it was funny, but guys who would never think of accepting a hug would give anything under the pretense of it just being sex. But that wouldn’t work with Emery because he wouldn’t be receptive to being mauled. For once, the quick fix wasn’t an option. I would have to use my brain instead.

“I don’t want to lose my daughter to grief, but me bending over backward, turning myself inside out, isn’t accomplishing anything productive.”

I nodded because I had no idea what else to do.

“The older she gets, the more closed off she becomes, but mere moments with you, and you’re right under her skin,” he said hoarsely, and his smile was tremulous and his chin wobbled.

And it hit me that this was a much bigger deal than me baiting his kid to react and thus talk.

“I’d love it if she opened up and talked to you—or even better, me—but I’ll take what I can get.”

“I’m not a miracle worker,” I said flatly, because I wouldn’t allow him to pin any type of hope on me or think something great could happen just by having me around. The opposite was much more likely. I was a good soldier, I could be counted on under pressure, and if lives were in danger, if people were shooting at you, I was the guy you wanted. But for me to be an emotional anything wasn’t likely. Why Jared thought I was the one who should come out to Montana and be the nanny was beyond me. I had to wonder about him. What in my skill set said “good with kids”? How did he get caregiver from me being the guy you wanted in a firefight?

“I know that.” Emery sighed, returning my focus to him. “But she’s not grunting or ignoring you, so to me this is a sign of life, and I couldn’t be more thrilled.”

I really needed to reiterate that I was not a cure.

As his girls, and a third—Taylor, Emery told me—climbed into the SUV, I turned and looked out at the road. I had to wonder how the other guys at Torus did this job year in and year out and never got involved. I was quiet for the rest of the drive, trying to figure out what I was going to say to Jared to get the hell out of Ursa.

Once we reached the park and Emery found a spot in the crowd of other cars, I got out and watched Olivia throw off her seat belt and try and leap down onto the gravel parking lot. The problem was that her feet got tangled in the straps of her soccer bag, and she would have pitched forward and fallen, but I was there and caught her easily.

“Ollie!” Emery shouted.

“It’s okay,” I soothed him, leaning sideways so I could see him and make eye contact. “I got her. No worries.”

He nodded, took a deep breath, and then turned away from me and bumped his forehead into the steering wheel. “Thank you,” he said without moving, eyes closed.

I had no idea why something so small would shake him up so badly, but thinking it was a good idea to give him a minute or two, I gave my attention to the little girl in my arms.

“You all right?” I asked her.

“You didn’t let me fall,” she said as I carried her out of the way of an enormous puddle and put her down. “That was awesome.”

It didn’t escape me that I’d used the word awesome a bit ago and now she’d said it. It was pretty damn cute. “You’re easy to catch.”